


Meteoroid

by Enchantable



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24729763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: “How long is that going to last before it becomes my fault?” Alex asks. Michael wishes he didn’t know what he was talking about. He wishes he could say it wouldn’t but he can’t. Alex shakes his head, “we both know it’s only a matter of time.”“No, no,” Michael says, “not this time.”Alex shakes his head.“You can’t know that,” he says.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 5
Kudos: 146
Collections: Something Cosmic





	Meteoroid

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many feels from that hug! I want all the Malex affection. I would love to see a post Crashcon fic where Michael keeps being really physically affectionate towards Alex and just generally wanting him close by because my dude was not even trying to hide his emotions here. +1 for this leading to *the* big talk where they are both honest with their feelings.

“Shit shit shit,” Michael can only curse as he runs through the crowd, “Get out of the way! Move!”

No-one wants to move, of course, because no-one in this fucking town can. Michael’s got no other option even though he knows it’s going to land him in more hot water than he wants to be in right now. He’s got no powers so the only choice he has is to deck the first guy he sees with a holster and fire several shots into the air. They crowd, understandably, panics. Screams ring out as people run away. That’s the thing about chaos, it feeds on itself. And no-one wants to be a hero at fucking Crash Con.

“Guerin!”

Except for one fucking person.

“We have to go,” Alex says, “everyone else is gone. Come on.”

He reaches for him but Michael shrugs him off. He’s not sure why, he just knows that he can’t run. Not when alien tech is going to destroy everything. Not when the one thing he’s been working towards his entire life is about to go up in smoke. If he had his powers maybe he could move it but he doesn’t. He can’t. Everything in him is screaming to run in about a dozen different directions, do a dozen different things. Alex grabs him this time, slipping past Michael’s defenses. As per fucking usual.

“It’s gonna blow,” Michael says, “the stage is varnished.”

“Then we have to get away from here,” Alex says.

“But it’s the console,” Michael retorts, turning to look at it, “it’s complete. Max thinks it’s a remote. There’s a ship—”  
“Guerin, it’s not worth dying over,” Alex says.

“You don’t know that!”

Alex stares at him and Michael knows he probably sounds insane. He doesn’t have time to make Alex understand what he’s trying to put into words. He can’t just leave his one chance here though. He doesn’t know if it’s worth it or if it isn’t, he doesn’t know if he can make that choice. It’s odd how his greatest reason to stay and his greatest chance to go are both here. Trying to force the choice, even though he swore it was earth. He swore but he wasn’t sure. He’s not sure now.

“Alex I can’t,” he says, “there’s a chance for me to go home. I can’t walk away from that.”

He sees Alex’s jaw clench and he doesn’t know what to say. Or how to say it. He would stay for Alex, that much is so fucking clear, but Alex doesn’t want him to stay. Or doesn’t want to be the reason he stays. He doesn’t want to stand in his way. Michael isn’t good at these choices, he always always makes the wrong fucking one. Sometimes the reason is good, sometimes it isn’t, but the end result always is the opposite of what he wants.

“Is that what you want?” Alex asks. Michael opens and closes his mouth, “answer me Guerin, do you want to go?”

“No,” he blurts out.

“Then give me the gun,” Alex says.

Michael hands it over, not sure what he’s going to do until Alex lifts it and assumes a stance that Michael hasn’t seen. He’s only caught glimpses of the solider Alex became. The uniform, the stance, all of that is a covering that he can push past usually. This isn’t. Michael has to force himself to watch as Alex aims and squeezes the trigger. The pieces want to be together but Alex breaks them apart with surgical precession, burying several bullets neatly at key points.

Gold radiates out and splinters across the surface. Michael swears that he can hear the glass screaming. It hurts in the hollow place where he can usually find Max and Isobel, the place where his telekensis comes from. It hurts there and it hurts everywhere, like he’s the one breaking apart. The glass keeps cracking and he hears Alex take several more shots that make the heavy curtains fall on it. Michael takes a step towards the glass but the breaking continues as the molecules pull apart. There’s a high pitched sound, that’s his only warning.

“Get down!” He yells and tackles Alex as his only shot at getting home explodes.

It’s hot and chaotic and it hurts but Michael stays covering Alex as much as he can until he feels the shards of glass stop bouncing off his jacket. When he pulls back, Alex’s face is tight and a few shades paler than Michael is used to seeing. Michael ignores every boundary to try and identify the problem, flattening his hands against Alex’s chest and neck. Alex coughs and opens his eyes, immediately shrugging Michael off to curl over his wrist.

“Shit,” Michael swears.

Alex’s wrist is bent at an awkward angle and whether it’s because of the tackle, the ship or something else—it doesn’t really matter. It all comes back to him. The bone’s not through the skin but he can see Alex is in pain. He braces himself but before he can push himself up, Michael gets his hand under his wrist. They both look around at the chaos from the explosion. Getting out is paramount but Michael doesn’t have it in him to hurt Alex more. He throws his jacket to the side and grabs his overshirt, ignoring the heat on his skin. He gets his jacket under his arm and wraps his shirt into a makeshift sling, bracing it as much as he possibly can.

“Come on,” he says, helping Alex get to his feet.

“Get the gun,” Alex snaps and of course he would be thinking logically at a time like this. Michael grabs the firearm, “this way,” Alex says nodding in a direction.

Michael trusts him and helps him get away from the explosion. Alex’s gait is steady but there’s no way the very slight limp he still has is pleasant on this. Michael does his best to take any of the jostling off. It’s not perfect but what the hell is in their lives. Worry and grief churn in his gut but the first outweighs the second. He can mourn for his ticked out as soon as his reason to stay is alright.

“Hey, hey I need some help,” he says to the first paramedic he sees, “his wrist is broken.”

The paramedic ushers them over. Michael doesn’t even think about scrambling into the ambulance after Alex as the paramedic snaps on a pair of gloves and undoes his makeshift splint and sling. Alex’s jaw clenches as the limb is shifted onto a proper splint and re-bandaged. Michael can hear the chaos going around outside.

“Sir, sir!” Michael turns to get a bright light shown in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he snaps.

Alex makes a pained sound that has his heart leap into his throat but when the paramedic is inspecting his wrist, he glares and motions towards the ambulance door. Even though he’s relieved that Alex isn’t actually in more pain he still manages to shake his head. He’s not going anywhere. He didn’t get how Max was about Liz and anything vaguely Liz-Related but it’s starting to make a lot more sense to him now.

“You can’t help at the hospital,” Alex tells him the second the paramedic is called out to triage someone in worse shape than Alex, “you have to go,” he says.

“What? No way. I’m not leaving you—“

“Yes,” Alex says firmly, “they’re going to try and check you out again,” Michael opens his mouth, “you aren’t family. You can’t come with me when they fix my wrist,” he says, though not as unkindly as Michael’s pretty sure he deserves, “make sure everyone else is okay.”

Michael doesn’t want to get out of the ambulance and he fucking knows that ‘make sure everyone else is okay’ is a cheap ploy to get him out. Everyone else is a lot better off than his powerless ass. But Alex gives him a hard look that distinctly says Michael shouldn’t be questioning him right now. Normally Michael would tell him where he can put that look, but the pallor of his skin and the tight press of his lips makes him reconsider. The pained groan that Alex gave to distract the paramedic was partially theatrical but Alex also isn’t in a position to play alien interference.

“Fine, but I’m coming by afterwards. If they discharge you let me know.”

Despite his best efforts to be quick about it, it takes him a few hours to find everyone and help in various ways. It’s enough time for Alex to send a text that he’s been discharged and when Michael asks if he escaped or actually got discharged, Alex sends him a picture of a massive white plaster cast that takes up his forearm and Michael discovers that you can flip someone off with a recently set wrist. Despite his bone deep weariness and the fact that Alex might not let him in, Michael goes over.

“You okay?” He asks quickly.

“I’m fine,” Alex says, his eyes sweeping him up and down, “are you?”

“Yeah, I’m not the one in a cast.”

Alex scoffs but still somehow lets him in.

“You are the one who got his ticked home blown up,” he points out. Michael winces as he goes to the thing that Michael was trying to avoid thinking about, “by a Manes man,” Alex adds.

How Alex can manage to feel bad about that floors Michael. After all the fucked up shit that happened it’s clear Alex didn’t want to do what he did. It’s also clear that he expects Michael to blame him for it, even though they both know Michael practically begged him to do it.

“You got your wrist broken,” Michael points out.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Alex says.

“Considering your pain tolerance that’s everything,” Michael points out.

Alex looks away and Michael wonders if he’s managed to slide over some invisible line already. Obviously he wishes Alex’s life wasn’t so filled with pain and he’s not proud of the role that he’s played in adding to it. Both intentionally and unintentionally. Alex looks at him pointedly and Michael wonders why it suddenly feels like there’s electricity in the air.

“I didn’t want to do that to your console,” Alex says.

“I don’t give a shit about the console!”

“You don’t give a shit about the thing you spent your whole life building? The thing I stole from you?” Alex questions, “I saw the way you were looking at it. I swore I wasn’t going to be another person from my family who got in your way.”

“I wanted you to be in my way!” Michael is surprised by how loud and desperate his voice comes out, “I couldn’t do that myself. I needed you there,” Alex looks surprised but still defensive, “I know you wouldn’t have done it without me making you,” Michael says finally.

Alex looks down and Michael tries to swallow the emotion that tightens his throat.

“For how long?” He asks.

“What?”

“How long is that going to last before it becomes my fault?” Alex asks. Michael wishes he didn’t know what he was talking about. He wishes he could say it wouldn’t but he can’t. Alex shakes his head, “we both know it’s only a matter of time.”

“No, no,” Michael says, “not this time.”

Alex shakes his head.

“You can’t know that,” he says.

Michael stares at him. Alex, not being a coward, doesn’t look away. He just waits. Michael hates that about him. Alex can be patient, not that he always is. But when he needs to be, he can be. Michael is usually the one who breaks first and this time is no different.

“You got a pen?”

Alex stares at him, confused. But he goes over to the drawer and pulls out a pen because of course Alex is also the more organized. Michael uncaps it and motions for Alex to give him his casted arm. Alex sighs but extends it, giving Michael more trust than he probably deserves at the moment.

“Not Alex’s Fault,” he says, “signed by me,” he adds, scribbling his name, “is it past midnight?” He dates it too just to be safe, “there. If I try to do something stupid just show me that.”

Alex looks down at his wrist. But he doesn’t look convinced. Michael can’t fully blame him. He can only hope that it’s a start in the right direction. Alex lowers his wrist and rubs between his eyebrows.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“Huh?”  
“Food, do you want food,” Alex says, “we should talk but I’m starving.”

Michael stares for a moment before nodding quickly. He’s surprised at how this has turned but he can’t say he’s upset about it. He watches as Alex makes his way over to the fridge.

“What are you in the mood for?” He asks, looking back at him.

Michael finally catches on and comes over to help Alex look.


End file.
